I was given a book a long time ago
Reading it now has become rather slow
Behind every beautiful word of gold
I can sense a kind of cold
The story I’m reading feels worn by age
Not the last word yet, I’m turning the page

I was given a room against my will
It’s nice and warm but gives me no thrill
The tubes in the plumbing are rusty and weak
Soon I expect there will be a leak
The windows are dirty and dim to my sight
Not all dark yet, there's still some light

I was given a road to walk and to travel
Sometimes it's even but often with gravel
Facing the crossroads questions arise
Without any answers I just throw the dice
'Neath the lily of the valley I rest my head
Not the road’s end yet, it’s waiting ahead

Copyright © 2008 Göran Gustafsson. All rights reserved